


Put It Together

by EntreNous



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Awkward Flirting, IKEA Furniture, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 11:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3648069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Chris had lots of one-time customers who saw his fliers or heard about him from a friend-of-a-friend.  They would call or text him, he'd take on the job of wrangling the pieces of their matching nightstands or whatever into place, and that would be it.  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>He'd managed to collect a few repeat clients, however.  And one of his best was a guy who lived just two buildings away, Zach.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put It Together

**Author's Note:**

> Written for queerastrek on tumblr, who prompted "Pinto and IKEA furniture." IKEA Furniture is a pre-existing tag! This makes me stupidly happy.

"You're going to put together people's IKEA furniture for them," Katie had said skeptically when Chris ventured to tell her about his make-money-on-the-side idea. "But they can do that --"

"Themselves, yeah. But everyone hates doing it," Chris reminded her. He tried to steal the last third of her cinnamon scone, but she whapped his hand away, so he had to settle for his cranberry orange muffin stump. "Plus their furniture kits make it seem like all you'll need is that allen wrench, and it's a total lie."

"You absolutely need the power tools to tighten the bolts and drill the holes deeper," Katie agreed. She finished her coffee and set the mug down on the café table. "Which you have. And which I have."

"Thanks to Dad and his practical Christmas presents. At least mine aren't all a lovely pale shade of pink."

"You know you're jealous of my pink power drill," she said smugly. "But Chris, I think IKEA will assemble everything for you if just you pay them extra. Why should people give their money to some random guy to do it?"

"Because I'll charge less. And plenty of people think they can put the stuff together themselves, but then they get it home, and it's like, ugh, despair sets in."

"Well, we'll see." She kept that superior-older-sister expression on her face as she got up to bring her mug and empty plate up to the counter.

"Hey, sorry, did you just say you'll put together people's IKEA furniture?" a harried looking woman with a snotty toddler clinging to her asked Chris. Over at the counter, Katie gawked while Chris handed the woman his business card calmly (trying not to look as though it was the very first he'd handed out from his brand new stack). "Because we bought this dining room table there three months ago, and oh my god, it's _still_ stacked up in those stupid flat boxes in our apartment."

**********

Pretty soon Chris's side business was going at a steady clip -- not so crazy that he didn't have time for his acting classes and auditions, but generating enough return that he was seriously thinking about giving up his part-time job waiting tables. 

Chris had lots of one-time customers who saw his fliers or heard about him from a friend-of-a-friend. They would call or text him, he'd take on the job of wrangling the pieces of their matching nightstands or whatever into place, and that would be it. 

He'd managed to collect a few repeat clients, however. And one of his best was a guy who lived just two buildings away, Zach.

"Another bookcase?" Chris asked one Tuesday when he opened his door and saw Zach standing there sheepishly. He'd hefted over a sizeable box in his arms with the familiar _Billy_ designation printed on the cardboard. "You know, you don't have to lug them all the way over at this point, man. I could just come over to your place -- whoa, you got that?" He jumped forward to catch the other half of Zach's long package, which Zach had for some reason nearly let go of suddenly. 

"Yeah, thanks. Uh, come over? Sure, that could -- sometime. That would be good -- except, no, I'm probably pretty much done with all the things for my new place." As soon as Zach finished speaking, he looked vaguely horrified.

"Oh, sure," Chris said. He looked down at the floor briefly, trying to hide his irrational disappointment. Zach probably just looked weirded out because he'd revealed he was about to take away one of Chris's sources of income. 

But even without Zach bringing Chris easy business, it would suck when Zach didn't stop by anymore. Whenever Zach would swing by with another IKEA item, they always got along really well. Mostly they'd just talk about whatever -- the auditions they both went on, the L.A. scene, the whole gritting your teeth until you hit it big as an actor deal. They never lacked for conversation, often cracking each other up throughout the process as Chris deftly fit together whatever Zach had brought him.

Chris always meant to segue the conversation to how they should definitely have a drink together, or grab a coffee sometime. After all, he'd more or less started to think of Zach as a friend at this point. And at times, when there was a lull after their laughter had waned, or Zach finished a hilarious story, Chris would wonder if maybe there was something more there than just friendship. 

But in moments when that kind of thing might have come up naturally, Zach often seemed to steer the conversation elsewhere or make excuses about having to leave. Chris wouldn't hear for him for a while, and he'd figure any friendship or affinity he saw between them was just wishful thinking on his part. But then Zach would show up on his doorstep with some new IKEA item, and once again, the time they spent together would fly by, and Chris would get to wondering again. 

"Well, hey, let's get this one going then," Chris made himself continue on with a smile. "That way we'll move you a little closer to totally unpacked, huh? All those books up on their shelves and everything."

"Great, yeah." Zach stepped inside before he hesitated. "I know I didn't text first; I didn't mean to push this one on you or make you feel like you have to get to it right this moment --"

"No, it's cool. I have some free time before I head out to my trainer." Chris began to drag the box into his tiny spare room that doubled as an office and the dumping ground where he kept his tools (and his growing collection of totally useless allen wrenches). "You could hang out if you want, if you're killing time too," Chris called over his shoulder.

"Yeah, actually, if you don't mind. I've got, uh, a thing later, but for now. All kinds of free." 

After a few beats, Zach cleared his throat. Chris looked up from unpacking the bookcase components to see him standing there with two bottles of water in his hands. "Figured you could use it," he said, handing one over to Chris. 

Chris grinned up at him and reached up; as Zach handed over the bottle, he fumbled it a little, though Chris caught it just fine.

"Lucky that wasn't open," Chris said. "Get your new bookcase all soaked."

"Yeah, I guess I'm a little klutzy today," Zach ventured after taking a long swallow from his own bottle. "That's why I hire you to put all this stuff together."

"You don't seem like a clumsy dude," Chris said, looking up. Zach clearly was no stranger to trainers himself, given the nice shape of his arms and the inviting curve of his calf muscles pretty much right in Chris's sightline. 

Zach shrugged, drinking more of his water. He squatted down to Chris's level as though assessing the job, keeping his eyes on the plywood planks Chris had just set aside.

"In fact, I bet you do yoga and stuff like that," Chris went on as he separated out the screws and the other hardware. "You've got that muscular and lean thing going. Besides, you look bendy." 

This time Chris wasn't in time to catch the water bottle from Zach's slack fingers; he swore instinctively when the spray of water hit him in the face and drenched his t-shirt. The bottle clattered to the floor with a plastic-y series of thumps. 

"Wow, uh. Clearly I'm getting in the way, so. I'll just stop by later?" Zach stood and began backing away, his eyes wide. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder to gesture at his imminent exit.

"It's no problem, it's just a little wet," Chris said, his voice muffled as he yanked the soaked shirt over his head.

Zach made a small sound. "Later is probably better," he insisted. "Sorry about that -- okay, I'll text you and see how it's coming. No rush or anything."

"It's really not a big deal," Chris called after him, though his front door slammed shut soon after.

**********

Somehow along the way of this end-table and that entertainment center, Chris had found out Zach's apartment number. Maybe Zach had written him a check and he'd absently noted the detail, or perhaps Zach had once dropped it in conversation. 

So after Chris quickly finished with the bookcase (he could practically put together a Billy in his sleep these days), and spent an hour letting his trainer torture him, he stared at the notation he'd made in his moleskin notebook containing his customer info. 

He drummed his fingers on the kitchen countertop before eyeing his cell phone. He knew he should probably spend the afternoon making some calls about a few auditions he had coming up, but... "Might as well just bring it over to his place," Chris reasoned aloud. "Seeing as it's his last IKEA thing and all."

Sure, if he stopped to think about it, there really was no excuse for him to haul over the bookcase himself. Zach always either waited for Chris to put his stuff together at Chris's apartment, hanging out and joking with him, or stopped by like clockwork exactly when he said he would. But Chris felt sort of bad at the way Zach had run off. Maybe this was a way to make amends for whatever had made Zach bolt. Besides, he could admit he was curious to see how Zach's apartment was shaping up with all the furniture Chris had put together for him. 

He nodded to the doorman as he shouldered the bookcase through the lobby -- he'd pretty much gotten on a first-name basis with most of the area doormen since starting this business -- and took the service elevator to Zach's apartment. 

Chris had just set down his burden in the hallway and raised his hand to ring the bell when he heard a scuffle.

"Noah, hey, no," Zach's voice said sternly right after a joyful bark sounded out and a brief spate of scratching made the door shake. "Sit. Quiet." Silence followed for a moment before Zach said, "Good boy."

"That is certainly effective," Chris muttered to himself. It was kind of interesting to hear Zach sound so commanding; occasionally he came off a little nervous around Chris. But that firm tone of voice -- 

"You're just here to bring back the bookcase," Chris mouthed to himself. 

"Oh!" Zach exclaimed as he opened the door. "Hi." He glanced over his shoulder before turning back to Chris, looking conflicted.

"Hey there," Chris answered, forcing good cheer into his tone. It wasn't an easy thing, now that it seemed Zach not only hadn't expected to see him on his doormat but also wasn't particularly thrilled about Chris's initiative in bringing back the bookcase. "I just figured -- I was going for a walk anyway. And you're so close by. Sorry, I should have checked first --"

"No, that's really decent of you," Zach said, finally cracking a smile. He opened the door wider so Chris could come through. "Here, let me help."

"No worries; I'm already all sweaty," Chris explained as he hoisted the item across the threshold. He felt Zach's eyes on him the entire time as he set down the shelving unit.

"Hey, buddy," he greeted the panting dog at Zach's side. The dog looked absolutely beside himself to make Chris's acquaintance, though he kept obediently still. "Can I?" he asked, hand hovering and ready to pet.

"Go for it, definitely. That's Noah," Zach added.

When Chris hunkered down to greet Noah, scritching his ears and crooning nonsense at him, Zach grinned more widely. "He likes you for sure."

"Good thing too; a dog doesn't like you, it's totally a deal breaker with their human," Chris joked.

Zach paused, looking awkward again. "Uh. Yeah."

Chris pressed his lips together so he wouldn't frown. So often he and Zach got along great, but they did hit these uncomfortable spots sometimes. He hated to think this time it was because of him dropping by unannounced. "So where do you want it?" he asked after a moment of quiet.

Zach nodded a few times. "Here's fine. Right here is spectacular."

"Spectacular?" Chris laughed. "Come on, you can't keep it here; there's no room in this little foyer."

"I guess." Zach gazed around at the entryway as if just seeing it for the first time. "I just don't mean to make any extra work for you."

"But it's like our swan song of IKEA assembly," Chris protested. He quickly ducked his head to hide his wince. He sounded like an idiot, and he had no idea why he was trying to prolong this interaction with Zach, when Zach seemed like he'd had enough of the visit from the handyman. "I mean, last job for you and all. You should let me just give it to you exactly where you want it."

"Right." Zach cleared his throat. "Okay. This way."

Chris dutifully followed, glancing around to see the layout of Zach's apartment. Funny thing, but most of the furniture looked like a nicer grade than the IKEA stuff Chris had been assembling for him. There was a coffee table just like one Chris had spied in the window of Pottery Barn, and a console that had understated but attractive detailing that obviously wouldn't show up on an IKEA piece. 

Probably Zach had just inherited some stuff from old roommates or relatives. Chris himself had a really great butcher block style kitchen table -- courtesy of his parents deciding to remodel their house. 

"You want it against the wall?" Chris asked before he took a second look and noted there wasn't a clear place for the bookcase to go. "Or you think we should take this to the bedroom?"

"No, just -- you can set it down. Hey, I'll get you some coffee. You want some coffee? I just made some coffee earlier --" Zach disappeared in the direction of what was obviously the kitchen. 

With no other obvious option, Chris carefully placed the bookcase in the middle of the room.

"Actually, I've got to make a fresh -- do you like French press?" Zach called. 

"Sounds great." 

"I'll be right out with it in a couple of secs."

Chris waited for a few moments, gazing out the tall living room windows. He didn't really want to wander around Zach's place without Zach; he always made sure not to intrude on his customers' personal spaces. But the moment stretched on, with the whirr of a grinder sounding and running water indicating a kettle being filled. Chris didn't even have the distraction of Noah to divert him; the dog had padded after Zach with a sprightly gait, clearly thrilled to be part of the coffee brewing process. 

So after a few minutes, Chris glanced a little more closely around the room just for something to occupy himself. Funny thing, even though he could see as far as a hallway beyond, he still hadn't spotted a single bookcase. Then again, some people liked to gather all their books together out of sight of guests. 

Chris skimmed a finger over the console table and poked at a pile of entertainment magazines on a stylish looking end table that clearly wasn't IKEA in origin. Finally, having exhausted his immediate options, he peered down that hallway.

Almost immediately he saw a partially open door. Though the space beyond seemed sizeable, it must have been a spare room rather than a guest bedroom or study, because it looked stuffed to the gills with furniture.

"Still getting settled, I guess," Chris murmured, though every other part of the apartment he'd seen had looked pretty settled to him. Maybe Zach just had some spare pieces ready to go into storage.

Finally curiosity got the better of him, and Chris peeked inside the dark room.

"Oh my god," he exclaimed.

"What, what is it -- oh." Zach hurried over to him only to pull up short.

Zach's spare room housed a bevy of empty bookcases, all pushed together, along with a slew of other IKEA items Chris has assembled. Everything looked completely unused, stacked or crammed into every available space. 

"Uh...I can explain -- okay, fine," Zach said irritably when he realized Chris was laughing silently. 

"What -- are you getting ready to outfit some other apartment somewhere?" Chris gasped out. Once the surprise of seeing all the furniture shoved together had worn off, he couldn't help but laugh; now he was having trouble catching his breath and his jaw was starting to make a freaky clicking sound. "Maybe you're the head of some charity to give cheap but functional bookcases to needy college grads? There is so much stuff in that room, dude! What's going on?"

"I didn't know how else to keep seeing you," Zach said, looking extremely cranky.

"You could have asked me for coffee! It would have been cheaper than buying all those Billy -- what do they run these days?"

"79.99 apiece," Zach answered automatically, rolling his eyes. He stopped himself, though, and smiled uncertainly. "I could have?"

Chris grinned. "I would have said yes a while ago." 

Zach nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "Hey, Chris, would you want to grab some coffee with me sometime?"

Chris smiled. "I totally would, but there's this dude who keeps taking up all my free time to put together his furniture."

At that Zach scowled, but then he suggested, "Maybe he's just making sure you don't have a ton of free time to date other guys."

"Seems kind of a roundabout way of doing things, instead of just asking me out. But okay, yeah, I guess it could be a sign that he's interested."

"I'd say he is."

"So how interested would you say? On a scale of one to ten bookcases?" Chris mused.

Zach mock-glared at him. "Like, ten bookcases interested."

"That's pretty interested," Chris said, making sure he sounded impressed. "So, coffee? I hear there's a kitchen nearby that makes a mean cup of French press."

Suddenly Zach gave him a knowing grin. "I bet you weren't even headed out for a walk when you came over here, were you? You just wanted to see me." 

Chris shrugged. "Maybe I did."

Zach tsk-ed at him. "You should really be way more direct, Chris."

"Says Mister Ten Bookcases," Chris commented as he followed Zach to the kitchen.


End file.
